Clothes Make a Dobie
#26 of Hockey Hunk Season 5
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Hello, children,
now, let's all sit down quietly for a small story, shall we?
*giggle*
Welcome to the Hockey Hunk, muffins, it's Friday and another chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy the 5 to 30 minutes you will spend perusing this tale today! I look forward to your comments and other feedback - not only it cheers me up, it will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
Have a nice read!
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A shirtless Dobie in my childhood room...how could this happen?
How indeed...
Murrr...
Well, with Victor doing some drying on his head furs with a towel while walking around the room, me seated on the bed and watching him while my tail bounced about the floor.
"I'm starting to feel underdressed," I mused, watching how his butt behaved in those black well-pressed pants he already had on, ending in neat leather shoes.
"So put on something nice," he winked from a fold of towel around his head that made him look like the Elephant Man for a moment.
"I don't really have anything nice here," I replied, "only old stuff I haven't had the heart to throw away."
"Sounds perfect!" he replied, now showing me a profile that had a lot of towel and a lot of nice wispy-haired armpit in view.
"It's old, embarrassing shit," I said, "Besides, nobody else is dressing up for dinner..."
He chuckled, muffled by the muzzle of a towel, but still, loud and rumbling enough to make my ears flick back and forth curiously.
"It's not like I'm gonna be wearing a suit or something," he said, "just felt like changing into something new for the evening, I hate wearing funky clothes, and I've been sweating and panting all day, so...funky..."
"Well I can see where you're coming from..."
Finally happy enough with it, he put the towel away and padded over to me, grinning a bit while his paws extracted a burgundy-shaded shirt from his overnight bag and carefully folded it open and held it up in his paws.
"Besides, a little bit of silk always looks good on a man," he replied as he slid his arms into the sleeves of that fresh shirt.
I snuffled.
"I wouldn't disagree while you're the one wearing it..."
"Spoilsport," he blew me a kiss as he began to button himself up.
"You're gonna make everyone's jaw drop," I said, "you look like you're heading out to eat."
"So? I like dressing up nicely for a nice occasion" he stated, paws closing towards his rumbling throat.
"You do look great," I mused.
"Thanks, handsome," he replied.
Well, he sure was dressed to impress...a real stand out doggie among the quadruple lions chewing him up...not that I was going to add to his grief, but I had a feeling that my family was not going to be so gentle. It hadn't been so bad yet...but...but the booze was going to be broken out...and if tongues came loosened...it could be like...well...I suppose three Glieses accounted to something like one and a half COBBs on COFFEE or something...so that was enough to make me want to tie my tail into a knot or something.
"I hope you'll like the food," I said.
"Of course I will, I helped to make it!" he said. "I chopped!"
"You did," I replied.
"So..." he stated, putting the finishing touches to his collar, "why do you still worry? I'm going to love it."
"I wasn't worrying," I replied.
"Of course you are," he flapped an ear to me.
"I don't want you to be embarrassed..."
Victor smoothened the hem of his shirt into his waistband and looked at me again.
"Or is it you who doesn't want to be embarrassed?"
"Of course I don't particularly want to but - "
"Are you honestly afraid they're gonna start asking when we're going to get married or something?" he stated.
Oh snap. I wrung my paws over my lap and tried not to pout.
"The thought has crossed my mind," I mused, "among other possibly embarrassing things..."
"Like what?"
Well I wasn't going to start telling him about my earlier mental gymnastics about...well, about a lot of things I though my parents might think about...us...that'd just sour Victor's wonderful mood...
"Anything they're curious about," I threw a paw in the air, "you know their kind."
"I only know you, and you're not probably the best example to talk for all of your family," he said.
"Huh?" I rumbled.
"Ease up!" he smiled. "Your parents are so laid back, but you're not."
"I'm not them," I said, "and they're not me."
"Yes, you are special, " he brushed a paw against my shoulder while he approached the bed again and put his other paw into his bag, to take out a small leatherette case from which he produced his eyeglasses and put them on. "I think I'm ready now."
I harrumphed, and stood up.
"They're probably waiting for us already," I said.
"So we'll be fashionably late!" he smirked.
We did manage to get down the stairs, with no noticeable number of fanfares or male dancers in top hats and ties and brandishing canes or ostrich feathers, and made our way through the living room and then the sliding doors into the dining room lodged between the living room and the kitchen.
My worst nightmares were indeed realized, with everyone else already seated at the table - dad on the end and overseeing the entire service, with his back to the windows so that he was looking directly at us when we stepped in, with mom to his right and Justin sitting to his left, looking bored and a bit uncomfortable. Everyone was wearing T-shirts, too...which was a massive contrast to what Victor had on, of course, he could've stepped into a restaurant looking like that. I was distinctively shabby in my jeans and T-shirt, too...
"There you are!" mom declared upon the sight of us, with dad smiling broadly.
What was I supposed to say to that?
"I see everything's ready!" Victor observed.
"You just hop in, boys and we'll start!"
it only then did hit me that the table was at its usual configuration, five chairs, with the extension to the middle not in place to seat another four to make it into a real banquet table, which meant that now there were only two more seats left...and they were on opposites sides. I quickly looked at Victor, whom seemed to be gazing at the seating arrangements as well, curiously...and so was I, of course...
"Just waiting for you, Rory, Victor," mom added cheerfully.
Here was my chance.
"Justin," I said, "could you go and sit next to mom so that I could sit next to Victor on this side?"
My brother stopped playing with his fork against the tabletop and gave me a dubious look, followed by him looking at dad, and mom...whom looked at one another...then to me...then to Victor...I hurried to look at Victor, who...I wasn't sure what his expression really said, though he was still smiling politely...I wasn't sure if this was getting to him too...
"But it's my place," Justin said.
"I'm sure it'll be alright if Rory sits there tonight," dad stated, looking at him sternly, "come on, go sit next to your mom."
My brother rolled his eyes in a "whatever the hell these grownups think they're doing" gesture and certainly didn't hurry on his way, rounding the table and then landing to the empty chair by mom with a thump. I tried to smile to him, but he didn't seem too receptive, indeed, he was more interested in looking at the bowl of salad than me.
Oh well.
I moved to sit down on his seat and made sure Victor looked alright, sitting there opposite to Justin. Victor did cut a nice figure, all smiles and one perky and one almost perky ear and a handsome curve to his muzzle...
"Do sit with your back straight," mom told Justin.
"Well, everyone, help yourselves!" dad proffered.
At least they weren't making too much of an effort now...it was all casual enough, nice, of course, everyone's paws flying to get to the bread and salad and chicken and potatoes and everything else that was on the menu, and while it looked like there was enough for ten furs instead of four, we did manage to make quite the dent to it by the time everyone had their plates full. Victor's portion was...COBB-sized, I noticed.
"This is most delicious," Victor announced, to rub it in, "Is that cinnamon I taste?"
"You might," mom giggled, "I do like to experiment a little."
"Or maybe it was me when you turned your back!" dad stated to mom, with a grin.
"Have you been to my spice rack?" mom sounded outraged.
Ohhhhh please don't make a joke about racks...dad...please...please...please...please...
"I like things spicy," dad replied.
Cue canned laughter?
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See you on Monday!